


IT'S NOT UNNATURAL, IT'S SUPERNATURAL

by trinipedia



Category: High School Musical (Movies), Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Community: crossbigbang, Crossover, F/F, F/M, Fanfiction, Gore, Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-22
Updated: 2009-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-15 11:55:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9234053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trinipedia/pseuds/trinipedia
Summary: Gabriella and Sam left everything behind to go to Stanford, and their fateful meeting does little to ease their loneliness, as Dean and Troy meet on the road, quickly becoming friends and allies in their shared quest of getting back the ones they love.Once they get to Stanford, though, they're faced with a mysterious murder; Dean decides to investigate and Troy, who's afraid Gabriella is in danger, tags along.Meanwhile, Sam has to face weird and gory nightmares which might in fact not be nightmares at all: he'll have to team up with his brother once again, in order to solve the mystery before Gabriella becomes the next victim.





	1. ACT 01

**Author's Note:**

> **Artists Name:** [liliaeth](http://liliaeth.livejournal.com/)
> 
>  **Beta:** [blueeyedliz](http://blueeyedliz.livejournal.com/)
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** not mine in any way, shape or form. Based on both the show and "High School Musical 3", so if there's anything you think you recognize, I probably didn't write it. Also, I couldn't have done any of this without ROADHOUSE's transcripts.
> 
>  **Spoiler:** heavy spoilers for HSM 3, none for SPN (pre-series).

 

 

_Three weeks earlier_

Sam knows his dad and brother are about to come back.

He knows he shouldn't be doing this, it's dangerous and he could get caught but maybe some part of him secretly hopes he will be.

If he was caught, he could finally, _finally_ stop pretending.

He's tired.

His hand moves faster and he has to lean against the wall for leverage as warm water falls over his back. A low moan comes out of his open mouth and Sam lays his head back, closing his eyes. "Fuck...oh, fuck...Dean..."

He bites his lower lip, spreading precome on the tip of his leaking cock and speeds up his movements. No time, no time to do this properly. Behind his closed eyelids, he pictures green eyes, sly smirk, light freckles all over naked skin...

"Dean!" He cries out as he suddenly comes, chanting his brother's name over and over.

He spaces out for a few moments and he thinks he hears a noise coming from the room, so he quickly washes away the remains of his guilty orgasm and hurries out of the shower.

Now that his mind is clear again, he knows he doesn't want Dean to find out about this. Ever.

He can live with the guilt and the loneliness, but he couldn't live without his brother's love, even if it's not the kind of love he's after.

"Fuck, I have to get out of here," he mutters, before he starts to dry off.

Once he's done and dressed, he has made his decision.

He'll talk to his dad as soon as he and Dean come back from the hunt, and he'll tell him he's leaving.

 

 

The guys enter the kitchen with big, matching smiles on their faces. "Hey, Mama," Troy says, greeting his mom with a kiss on the cheek.

As soon as she is done kissing Chad, too, he waves his tux in front of her and she squeals in delight.

"Gorgeous!" She exclaims, putting it against Troy's chest to check it out and evidently pleased by what she sees.

Chad snorts as he drinks from a coke can he just went and took from the fridge as though he thinks he's in his own house.

"I'd like to take credit, but Gabriella picked it out," Troy says, and his mom's expression turns softer.

She knows how much her son cares for the young Montez. "I ordered that corsage you showed me," she informs him, with a tender smile, "your Prom is going to be perfect."

She turns to Chad afterwards, in order to fuss a little over him as well, and as she asks him about his suit for the Prom, Troy's phone rings.

"It's Gabriella!" He says, face lighting up and flips his phone open, taking a couple of steps towards the living room for a little privacy. "Hey," he answers, his voice turning affectionate. "I just showed my mum the tux."

His earnest face drops in a second, listening to what Gabriella is telling him.  
"No, don't even say that."

Chad and Troy's mom stop talking when they hear the abrupt change to Troy's tone and glance at each other, confused.

Troy looks around, lost, then he stomps upstairs to his room, dropping on his bed while he keeps talking.

Something tells him he needs to be sitting.

"Gabriella, Prom is in two days. You're supposed to be on a plane right now."  
He tries not to sound accusing, really, he tries, and hearing her sounding so miserable is breaking his heart, but- "I know. I know."

Why isn't she thinking about what _he_ feels, for a change?

Why does it have to be him, every time, why is he the one who has to shift and adapt?

It isn't fair, it never has been.

"That was our plan," he states, standing up, voice a little colder than he intends to be and can almost see her flinch.

 

 

Chad approaches the room, but stays outside.

He doesn't want Troy to think that he wants to meddle, but he's worried.  
And Troy's mom is, too.

"Why do you keep saying _goodbye_?!" Troy asks, frustration echoing in his voice.

Then, a signal tone informs him that Gabriella has hung up on him.

He lays his forehead against the window pane and sighs. "She's not coming back, man," he mutters, knowing Chad is there.

Chad blinks, surprised.

He didn't expect that.

"Is she going to miss Prom?" He inquires walking into the room and Troy turns abruptly around, narrowing his eyes.

"No! She's just not coming back _at all_!" He snaps, throwing himself back on the bed and covering his face with an arm.

"Wow." Chad scratches the back of his neck, at a loss for words. "That's-lousy, man," he says, desperately trying to come up with something that will make his best friend feel better. He sits next to him on the bed. "Come on, Troy, everybody knows you don't take the girl with you after high school," he starts, poking at Troy's side. "Gabriella is just a step ahead already, as usual."  
Chad slaps Troy's arm, smiling encouragingly at him. "You got to snap out of it, dude! Ok, she's off to Stanford, and my girl is heading to Yale; well, you and me are going to U of A. It's a whole new ball game! You'll see."

Troy peeks out from under his arm and glares at Chad. "Maybe I just don't see my life as a _ball game_ anymore, man," he retaliates.

Chad lifts his hands. "Okay, fine. Fair enough. Then what about this: it will be you and me. Together. Just like when we were kids. The world is waiting, Troy, and we might as well take it." He nudges Troy's shoulder and stands up.  
"Just think about it, will you?" He pleads, before leaving the room.

Troy stares at the ceiling for a few moments after his friend left, trying to put a little order through the chaos reigning in his mind.

The only thing he can think about is that now, aside from this break up with Gabriella, he has to worry about how Chad is going to be broken up, too, when he finds out Troy isn't planning on going to U of A with him anymore.

Two hearts crushed in a single day, three, if he counts his own.

Yippie Kay-Yay.

 

 

The black, shiny car is sliding smoothly on the asphalt, its roaring engine the only sound for miles so early in the morning.

The radio which usually accompanies the young hunter during his trips is switched off and nothing can prevent him from thinking back at what in his mind he calls The Fight.

The one his dad and his younger brother had about him going to college.

Any other father would have been proud, hell, any other father would have probably insisted for a kid as gifted as Sam to go to college.

But their dad?

Their dad is different, their _life_ is different and really, Sam should have known better than to go and drop a bomb like that on their dad just after he’d come back from a hunt.

Still, he did, and all that came from that conversation had been screams and shouts, culminating with John hissing _if you walk out that door, don't you ever come back._

He should have known better too, but still he gave the kid an ultimatum, and seeing as Sam is the most stubborn son of a bitch to ever walk on Earth after his father, he had taken his duffel bag and left.

No one has heard from him since then, and Dean is starting to get antsy.

He has been the one protecting Sam and taking care of him since he was four and Sam was just a baby. His father didn't even have to ask him.

Since that first moment that Sam has been put in his arms, he devoted his life to him, and maybe that's why the distance is so hard for him to tolerate.  
Besides, with all the evil things they have faced up until now, how can he be sure that Sam is safe in a college bed, cramming or reading or doing some of that nerdy stuff he seems to love so much?

How can he be sure that some demonic motherfucker didn't whisk Sam away before he even got to Stanford?

He has to see him with his own two eyes.

He has to verify if he really is happier away from them, away from _him_.  
Because yeah, their father can be an asshole sometimes, and the fact that Dean never argues with Dad is only due to Dean being a good soldier and hating to fight-unless it is with his brother: in which case, it's quite amusing.

Dean sighs and steps on the accelerator, as he turns the radio on.

 _I understand that you had to do your own thing, Sammy_ he thinks as the AC/DC start wailing in the background _what I don't understand is why you had to leave me behind in order to._

 

 

Gabriella is wandering around campus, a little overwhelmed by it all.

So many students walking around, the green patches, the rose bushes: Stanford looks like a postcard castle, instead of a college.

She smoothes out her skirt and keeps her eyes fixed on the list of classes she is supposed to make an appearance at, to get an idea of how Stanford works or simply to talk to the teachers.

Being an honor student isn't without its perks.

She feels a little lost: no recognizable faces, no warming laughter.

No East High.

She sighs and tries to push down the feeling of inadequacy gnawing at her stomach, as she goes straight for her bicycle: the day is over, and she has to go home, pack and go to the airport.

Something is off, though, and as she pedals along the garden she knows she can't postpone it any longer.

What she feels is clear, and what she has to do is even clearer.

She stops the bicycle, gets off and sits on a stone bench, as she hits speed dial.

Troy's voice washes over her like an overused blanket you can't sleep without at night, warm and comfortable, and she can't help closing her eyes and pretend for a second that she is ok, laying on her bed back in Albuquerque.

Then she opens her eyes, and Stanford's imposing facade tears her illusion apart.

"We need to talk." It comes out rushed and hasty, so she takes a deep breath before going on. It isn't going to be an easy conversation, for either of them, there is no need to make it worse. "I can't be a little adult right now, Troy" she adds "I'm hoping you understand that." She pinches the bridge of her nose, listening to Troy's hurt tone. "It's taking me two weeks to get used to being away from you, from East High and all my friends." She chews at her lower lip, trying to find the right words to lessen the blow. "So what, I come back, go to Prom and then leave again? Then it's graduation, and I leave again?" Her voice starts cracking on the last few words, and she really can't bear to hear Troy as crushed as he is. "I don't think I can do it, Troy," she stutters, still somehow managing to keep the anguish at bay. "I think I've run out of goodbyes."  
She actually hiccups, right after she finishes talking, but Troy is too busy trying to make her change her mind that he doesn't notice.

Or so she hopes.

"I love you, Wildcat," she whispers, "but I need to stay right where I am. I'm sorry."  
And with that, she turns off her phone, right before she lets loose the pain and loneliness inside of her heart.

The tears start running freely down her cheeks and she stands up from the bench, embarrassed about what the other students passing by must be thinking of her pathetic little show, ready to turn and run away.

Before she can pick up any sort of speed, though, she clashes violently against someone else, who apparently had the same idea and is running in the opposite direction.

 

 

_This is Herman Munster. Leave a message._

"Hey, Dean. It's Sam. Uh... you probably won't even get this, but, uh...I miss you. Um... I've, uh, I've been trying to call you, but your phone's always switched off. You wouldn't change your number without telling me, right?  
Oh, I'm-I got here okay, it's not like I'm in trouble or anything, I just-I wanted to hear your voice. There, so, don't worry, cause, uh... I'm gonna do whatever it takes to adapt and get the best out of this. Alright... just wanted you to know."

It has been a couple of weeks since Sam got to Stanford, slamming the door and leaving his family and the only life he knew behind it. He knows he has been acting irrationally; he knew his father wasn't going to give him a pat on the shoulder as he told Sam how proud he was of him, but he didn't expect him to throw him out either.

Looks like he has underestimated the strength of his father's pigheadedness.

It isn't like he cares; he knows the man, he knows he's going to come around, sooner or later (which father would hate his son for being smart?!) and besides, it all worked out the way he intended it to, somehow, so it's ok.

What he cares about, the one person he misses like a severed limb, is Dean.  
He has grown up with his older brother, always so close that the concept of personal space has never been conceived.

They have shared everything, trying to make the best of the life they have found themselves thrown in.

Sometimes, when he was still a kid, Sam envied Dean. Dean had known mom, he had played baseball with dad, he had been to the zoo and the amusement park. He had been able to be _a kid_.

But for as much as Sam could hold a grudge against Dean for having had everything Sam wasn't even able to dream about, he never hated him. How could he, knowing that taking care of him was one of the reasons why Dean had to grow up so fast?

The heart of the matter is that he needs Dean.

When Dean started leaving with Dad, because Dad deemed Sam old enough to stay home alone, Sam realized he was losing big chunks of the days.

It was like the time they spent apart wasn't even worth remembering.

Maybe he should have worried about those weird glitches of his memory, but as soon as Dean was back within his visual field, everything went back to normal, and since he didn't plan on spending long periods of time far from Dean anyway, it had never truly been an issue.

He was happier when he was around Dean, and it wasn't until he hit puberty that he realized just _how_ happier Dean made him; when he did, he tried to kill himself, because there was something seriously wrong with him, and based on what he had been seeing since he had been old enough to understand, when something's wrong rock salt and gasoline are the safest solution.

However Dean found him and stopped him before he could actually do it and there had been so much sadness, guilt and fear in his green irises that Sam vowed never to try anything like that ever again.

He got away with that one lightly, since Dean thought that it had been just an unfortunate accident.

The bell snaps Sam out of his reverie, and he finds himself playing with the keys of his phone again.

Dean's name is already blinking on the screen: he’s probably pressed the numbers without even noticing.

With a sigh, he pulses the green button once more.

_This is Ricky Zambora. Leave a message._

"Dean? I know I've left you messages before. I don't even know if you'll get 'em." Sam clears his throat. "But I'm here. And I'm alone. And there's somethin' missing, man, I can't even breathe properly. I don't know if you're ok, if you're just ignoring me or if you're really still so pissed at me that you don't want to talk to me ever again, but..." His voice breaks. He pauses, barely keeping himself together. "... I don't know what to do." He begins to cry, unable to stop it. "So, whatever you're doin', if you could get here. Please. I need you, Dean. I need you to tell me we're still-us."

He hangs up sadly, with more tears in his eyes. His fists clench, Sam swallows hard and turns abruptly to leave.

He feels like screaming and doing so in the middle of campus isn't a great idea, so he gets ready to run as fast as his freakishly long legs and his military training are going to allow him to, but just then someone crosses his path, and they both end up with their asses on the floor.

_TBC..._


	2. ACT 02

 

  
_Highway to Heeeell...highway to Heeeeeell..._  
  
Dean is muttering the lyrics, as he softly head bangs and taps his fingers on the steering wheel following the rhythm.  
  
Maybe it's because he's distracted by the song, or maybe it's because his head is filled with both his need to see Sam and the dread of finally being in front of his brother and not knowing what to say.  
  
Whatever the reason, he fails to notice the white truck on the side of the road.  
His instincts kick in, though, when he smells something weird in the air and, as he stops and looks back (thankfully the road is otherwise completely empty), he sees a guy trying to push the truck away from the road and into a field.  
  
The guy can't be more than seventeen, eighteen tops, and he looks disheveled, tired and maybe a little on the emo side.  
  
He's wearing a crumpled t-shirt, red with a wildcat on the front and some washed out blue denim jeans.  
  
Dean sighs and steps out of his car, his gun ready in his pocket, because in his line of work there's nothing like _being too careful_.  
  
"Hey, kid, need a hand?" He asks, and the guy looks at him, his face brightening up.  
  
"That'll be great, man. This truck's heavier than I expected it to be, and even if there's no one around now, I don't want it to be in the middle of the road when someone comes by."  
  
Dean nods, and after he has muttered _Christo_ and the guy's blue eyes stayed blue, he steps to the side of the truck and pushes. "You better be pushing" Dean growls, after a few moments, because the truck can't possibly be this heavy.  
  
The guy looks offended. "Of course I am!" He answers.  
  
"Well, push _harder_!" Dean exclaims, as a thin sheet of sweat starts to cover his forehead.  
  
"I _am_ pushing!" The guy repeats, his voice petulant and whiny.  
  
Dean snorts. It's like quarreling with Sam. A wave of longing washes over him; he pushes his forehead against the cold metal of the back of the truck and sighs. "Ok, I think here's good," Dean says, after taking a moment to get himself together, and they pull on the brake, both panting.  
  
Dean glares at the guy, and he chuckles nervously.  
  
"What? I'm saving for a new fuel gauge," he says, lifting his hands in apology.  
Dean slaps his shoulder.  
  
"Save faster, kid."  
  
"Hey, I'm not a kid! I'm eighteen, and I'm about to graduate!" The guy protests.  
  
Dean smirks. "Sure thing, _kid_ ," he retaliates, then turns and walks back towards his car.  
  
The guy's hurried steps make him stop. "Wait!" Dean arches an eyebrow at him.  
"Listen, you don't know me and I don't know you, but-you have a car and I don't, and I really need to get somewhere fast."  
  
The guy's fidgeting, and shifts his feet nervously.  
  
Dean curses his good heart. "And where would this _somewhere_ be?" He inquires, as the guy beams.  
  
"Stanford University," he answers, and his eyes turn sad.  
  
Dean would feel alarmed, would probably think the kid’s got some conniving plan to stalk him until he gets to Sam and then kill them both, but the guy looks sincere, and Dean has learned to follow his gut on these kind of things.  
"As chance has it, I'm headed there too, kid. So jump in and _don't_ put your feet on the upholstery."  
  
The guy finally sees the car and whistles in appreciation. "Whoa, is this a _Chevy Impala_ of the-" he circles it slowly, "'67?!" He caresses the metal, reverently.  
  
Dean feels the pride blooming in his chest as every time someone compliments his baby and nods. "So, are you going to tell me your name eventually? Or maybe I can keep calling you _kid_."  
  
The guy wrinkles his nose. "I'm Troy. Troy Bolton. And it's not like I'm calling you _old man_ because I don't know your name," he adds, muttering.  
  
Dean flashes him a grin. "Name's Dean. Don't wear it out."

 

  
Sam blinks a couple of times and sits up, shaking his head to clear it. He turns around and sees a young girl with long dark hair, still half laying on the floor, her back to him.  
  
"Hey?" He calls, uncertain, but she doesn't answer, so Sam puts his hand on her shoulder. She jumps and turns abruptly.  
  
"You scared the hell outta me," she says, a hand against her chest, probably trying to slow her heart down.  
  
Sam takes back his hand. "I'm sorry. I just thought you might need some help."  
  
Gabriella shakes her head and stands up, patting her knees. "Nah, I'm good, thanks."  
  
Sam stands up too and scratches the back of his neck, uncomfortable.  
  
He doesn't know the girl, but her face tells a story and he wants to help.  
Maybe if he listens to someone else’s problems, he'll stop feeling sorry for himself, at least for a while.  
  
"So, uh, where were you headed before I head-butted you?" He asks.  
  
The girl blinks, then tightens her lips in a thin line. "No offense, but no way I'm telling you," she snaps. "You could be some kind of freak."  
  
Sam chuckles bitterly. "Yeah, freak. That's me. Sorry." His expression turns grim as the word hits him like a punch in the gut and he walks away, taking out his phone and selecting Dean's phone number once again.  
  
The girl's expression softens and she walks after him. As soon as she's close enough, she puts her hand on Sam's arm, effectively stopping him. "Hey, look at me," she says.  
  
Sam does, confused, while he closes his phone and pockets it again, without calling.  
  
"I'm sorry," the girl adds, "it was wrong of me to attack you that way. You were just being nice. I'm-" she sighs, "I'm not myself, lately."  
  
Sam shrugs. "I'm used to it, it's not big deal really," he answers.  
  
"So, are you a student here?" The girl asks, and Sam lowers his head shyly.  
  
"Not yet, I've just been selected for Stanford's Honors Program. I should start in the fall, if everything works ok."  
  
The girl gapes, looking surprised. "No way," she squeals in delight, "Me too!"  
  
Sam's eyes shift at the excitement he hears in the girl's voice, excitement he's not so sure he shares any longer. "What's the matter?" The girl enquires.  
  
Sam sighs. "It's just that-I've been trying so hard to get to California, to Stanford, and now that I'm here...something's still missing."  
  
The girl furrows her brow. "Why did you? What's in California that's so important?"  
  
Sam shrugs again. "Just something I've been looking for. For a long time."  
  
The girl, who's still holding Sam's arm, squeezes it and smiles knowingly at him. "Well, then I'm sure that whatever it is, it can wait a few more hours, right?" As she talks, she resumes walking, pulling Sam along.  
  
Sam shakes his head but follows her.  
  
It's not like his problems won't be right there, waiting for him, when he comes back.  
 

  
As soon as the engine starts, the music blares back to life and Troy shrieks. "What the Hell?!" He squeaks.  
  
Dean snorts, but turns it off.  
  
"Can't we have something-mellower?" Troy suggests.  
  
Dean throws him a side glance, studying him for a moment. _Modern kid_ he thinks _iPods and CD players generation, just like Sam._ He flashes Troy a smile as fake as it can be. "Sure thing, pal. Knock yourself out. Oh, I forgot: this car only likes tapes."  
  
He's laughing inside, but he most definitely doesn't expect Troy to chuckle and answer, "well, what are the odds? My truck does too!"  
  
Troy inserts his tape and some piano music fills the Impala. Dean arches an eyebrow, doubly surprised.  
  
"You don't like Bon Jovi?" Troy asks.  
  
Dean, despite himself, shrugs. "Meh, it's fine. Bon Jovi rocks. _On occasion_."  
  
There's only music for a while, until Dean feels the need to question his travel companion a little. Just in case. "So, why are you going to Stanford?"  
  
Troy grimaces. "I have to get my girl back."  
  
And for a moment it seems like that's all Troy's gonna say, but after a handful of seconds he goes on, telling his story to Dean.

 

  
"So. Gabriella."  
  
The girl nods, munching happily at her veggie sandwich as Sam stares at his coffee cup.  
  
They've been sitting and talking at the campus cafeteria for a while now, and they've already shared a few stories.  
  
"Did you plan on coming to Stanford?" Sam asks, and Gabriella snorts.  
  
"Yeah, pretty much since I was born. And don't get me wrong, it's so cool I got in and everything but-that's not why I'm here already. I just had to get away. From my family, my friends. My life." She puts the sandwich down and looks at Sam. "I love my boyfriend, really, I do, and I know he simply wanted what he thought would be best for me; he just never asked if I wanted it too. As I was still trying to decide what to do, Troy had already figured out where would we go, what would we do and how many kids were we going to have. I couldn't handle it, you know?" Sam nods knowingly. "I've always been the smart one, the mature one, the little adult. As long as I still fitted in what everyone, especially Troy, pictured me to be, everything was going to be fine. But I needed more."  
Gabriella huffs, evidently frustrated. "I mean, I really wish I could blame him, but I know it's no one's fault: he didn't realize we were never going to make it. If I stayed, my heart would have ended up breaking and I couldn't take it. I'm strong, but not _that_ strong."  
  
Sam is staring at her, stunned into silence by how much their situations are similar; Gabriella, though, misinterprets his silence and blushed. "I'm sorry, Sam, I didn't mean to bore you with my story. I just feel safe and at ease, with you, and I didn't realize-"  
  
Sam shakes his head and offers her a little smile. "No, no, it's okay. I know perfectly well how you feel. Remember I mentioned before that I was road-tripping with my father and brother?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"It's, uh, it's kind of the same deal," Sam explains, staring at his hands.  
  
"That's why you decided to come here?" Gabriella asks.  
  
Sam shrugs. "Part of it. I mean, yeah, I wanted to do my own thing, but-most of all, I couldn't keep on going through the motions. I couldn't lead the life they lead."  
  
_Then there is the small, insignificant detail of me wanting to jump my brother's bones_ Sam thinks, gloomily, but doesn't add anything else.  
  
Gabriella grins at him. "I totally get it," she states, lifting her coffee cup, "so, here's to the ones we love, the ones who love us and the ones we love who _don't_ love us." She stares at the cup for a second, then smirks. "You know what? Screw them, let's drink to us."  
  
Sam grins back. "Damn straight," he says, tapping his mug against Gabriella's.

 

  
"What did I miss?" The cheerful voice comes from right behind Sam, and as he turns he sees a blond girl beaming at them.  
  
"Nothing at all, Jess, you got here just in time! Sam, this is Jessica, my roommate. Jess, Sam, another honor student."  
  
Sam blushes, as he stands up and offers his hand to the new arrival. "I'm not-"  
  
"Oh, come on, no need to be modest! We're all talented people here," Jessica states, as she pulls him in a hug. "It's very nice to meet you, Sam."  
  
As they resume talking, and he gets to know Jessica a little better, there's something in her eyes, a flicker of hope and possibility, and he suddenly knows he could have fallen in love with this girl.  
  
He could have been _happy_ and _normal_ with her, if.  
  
But that _if_ is a Dean-shaped hole in Sam's heart, and nothing, not even a beautiful, smart girl like Jessica, will ever be able to fill it but Dean himself.  
  
_Maybe in another life_ Sam thinks, as he stands up and excuses himself.  
As soon as he's outside the cafeteria, he calls his brother again.

 

  
"My going to U of A has always been Dad's dream, not mine," Troy explains.  
"He has wanted me to end up at his alma mater since when I was still a baby, and I've always been good at basketball, so I thought _what else can you expect from life? It's not like you're good for anything else, after all._ But then I met Gabriella, and she showed me I _was_ good at something else. She showed me I had a choice. And I never really thanked her for that."  
  
The kid looks so crushed that Dean almost puts an arm around his shoulders, but stops himself just in time. He clears his throat instead. "What happened then?"  
  
"She got this special Freshman Honors Program at Stanford, and she didn't tell me because she thought I wouldn't want her to go. And she was right, I didn't. But when she started talking about putting off college for a year, just to be close to me, I knew she had to do it, it was important. So in the end I talked her into going, but I also had her promising me she'd come back for both our class show and graduation."  
  
Dean glances at him. "I guess she didn't, huh?"  
  
Troy shrugs. "Exactly. Apparently, I have been too selfish to realize that I was in fact forcing her to do what I expected her to do, you know, go, come back, leave again. I never considered she would have felt pushed. I only thought about me and my feelings. I fail at being a good boyfriend."  
  
This time, Dean doesn't stop himself and pats Troy's shoulder. "Come on, kid, we all make mistakes. You're going to Stanford to get her, right? That means you took your head out of your ass long enough to see you were wrong and decided to do something about it. Good for you."  
  
Troy goes silent for a moment. "What about you?" He asks then. "What are _you_ going to Stanford for?"  
  
Dean's smile is small and regretful. "More or less the same as you. I have to take my boy back." Troy's eyes go wide as the kid gapes at Dean, and Dean chuckles. "Dude, relax! I'm talking about my little brother, Sam. He had a fight with my dad, and my dad can be kind of a hotheaded prick when he feels like it, so he basically threw my brother out. I didn't intervene, because I know that usually is better to let them cool off, but apparently this time was different and, come morning, Sam was gone and he hasn't contacted me since. That was three weeks ago."  
  
Troy nods, then looks outside the car window. "Hey, we're here!" He exclaims, noticing that they're entering Stanford's gates.  
  
"Holy shit," Dean whispers when he takes in the school's appearance. "Sam's treating himself _good_."  
  
Suddenly he's not so sure coming here has been a good idea, but if Dean Winchester is one thing, he's stubborn, and he never backs down, so he parks and turns off the engine, before turning towards Troy.  
  
"So, kid, wanna get something to eat? I'm starving, and that cafeteria looks good," he says, pointing at the small, reddish building next to the main one.  
  
Troy shakes his head and stumbles out of the car. "No time. I have to see Gabriella."  
  
Dean looks longingly at the cafeteria, but has to agree with Troy, so he sighs and follows him to the information point.

 

  
_This is Ricky Zambora. Leave a message._  
  
"Dean, I'm sorry. I never meant to leave you. But I gotta do my own thing, you know, I gotta live my own life. I've always known what I wanted, and I had to go after it eventually. I mean, I can't let dad control my life as he controls yours. Hell, I wish you-" Sam clears his throat. "Anyway. I've always admired you, Dean, and once, just _once_ , I wish you'd have told me you were proud of me." Sam sighs and closes his eyes. "Please, take care of yourself. I'll do the same. Bye, Dean."  
  
He hangs up, shaking his head, as Gabriella walks up to him, stopping on his side.  
"Who was that?" She asks, his voice soft.  
  
Sam is still trying not to break then and there. "My brother."  
  
Gabriella nods. "What'd he say?"  
  
"He didn't say anything," Sam answers, "I said goodbye.”  
  
Gabriella looks concerned. "What's wrong?"  
  
Sam groans. "I've been trying to call my brother for the last three weeks. I've only ever got his voicemail."  
  
Gabriella blinks. "Well, maybe he's busy and his phone's been turned off?” She suggests, but Sam shakes his head with more force.  
  
"For _three weeks_? No, that's not like him. I think he might be in trouble."  
  
Gabriella's eyes go wide. "Trouble? What do you mean, _trouble_?!" She enquires, looking worried, and Sam curses inwardly.  
  
No time like the present to tell a girl you've just met that you think your brother might have been slaughtered by some supernatural evil being.  
  
"I don't know. Maybe I'm just paranoid," he says instead, and Gabriella pats his shoulder.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
Sam smiles tiredly at her. "I just can't help worrying, you know. He's my family."  
  
Gabriella nods in understanding, and squeezes Sam's shoulder before letting him go.  


_TBC..._


	3. ACT 03

  
There is a crime scene in progress ahead of them: police tape around the corner of the information point, several police cars and various people in uniform milling around.  
  
On the side, where the woods start, several more people look like they're conducting some kind of search.  
  
Dean's hunter instincts kick in instantly and his eyes shift from side to side until he spots the man who's probably in charge.  
  
"Let's go check it out," he whispers, walking towards him. Just before they reach the group, though, he turns towards Troy. "Whatever happens, don't say a word. Just follow me, I'll explain everything to you later."  
  
His tone is dry and imperative, and it stuns Troy into silence way before Dean's words register in his brain.  
  
The playful guy he has spent hours with has gone, and there's a leader in front of him.  
  
The sudden change slightly scares Troy, but it's not like he has been given a choice, so he follows silently.  
  
"What's going on?" Dean asks one of the cops, and the man turns and arches an eyebrow at him.  
  
"Who are you?" He asks back, and Dean flashes him a badge he took from his pocket.  
  
"FBI." The cop stares doubtfully at his clothes, but Dean shrugs. "I was off duty when I got informed that something weird was happening here. I was in the area, so I came to check it out."  
  
The man looks more convinced, but then his eyes move on to Troy, who fidgets, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. "That one's a little young to be a federal agent, isn't he?" The cop points out, and Dean just chuckles.  
  
"He's the boss' son, who's tagging along for a while to, you know, try out the life and all that. Anyway, what happened?"  
  
"We have no idea," the cop answers, shifting into professional mode. "Over the past couple of weeks, a few women have gone missing, most of them just passersby; their bodies turned out too messed up for us to be able to determine the cause of death. We tried not to alarm the college, since there has never been any real connection between the deaths and the school, until now."  
  
Dean nods, taking notes on a small pad he has taken out from God knows where.  
"So, this victim, you knew her?"  
  
The cop's expression turns sour. "Stanford might seem a big institution to you, but it's more like a small town. Everybody knows everybody, around here, and this girl was one of the A students, so yeah, she was pretty well known."  
  
"Any connection between the victims, besides that they're all women?" Dean enquires and the man shakes his head.  
  
"No. Not as far as we can tell."  
  
"One last thing," Dean states, as he puts the pad back into his pocket. "Do you have any theory about what has happened?"  
  
The cop bites his lower lip, then sighs. "Honestly? No. We still have no clue. Serial murder, kidnapping ring, satanic rituals...it can be anything, at this point, since the killings don't seem to follow any established pattern."  
  
Dean smiles and pats the man's shoulder. "I see. Well, thank you for your time, officer, we'll see you around."

 

  
A coffee and salad turns quickly into a coffee and pastry, and then a cold beer and an appetizer; when finally Sam and the girls split up, the sky has already turned dark.  
  
Sam offers to accompany them to their dorm, but Gabriella and Jessica giggle and answer that they are big girls and they will manage perfectly fine on their own.  
  
In Jessica's eyes there is the same warm light, but the mischievous glint he has seen before has faded, and Sam tries not to feel too guilty for brushing her off, since she has still gotten hurt despite his efforts to do so as gently as possible.  
  
"It's ok," she has told him, nudging his shoulder, "I just thought that-never mind."  
  
Sam stares at them until they turn the corner, then sighs and gets to his room.  
He's tired, and after he has tried to talk to Dean once more, he falls asleep.

 

  
As they walk away, Troy gets closer to Dean, now slightly pissed.  
  
"What was that all about, Dean? Are you an FBI agent or were you just making that up for-what for?!"  
  
He's confused, obviously, and the way Dean's back stiffens as he talks doesn't ease the confusion at all.  
  
Dean stops. "Troy, listen, you'll just have to trust me on this. Okay? Believe me, you don't wanna know. My job is- _complicated_ , and-"  
  
"Oh, no, you don't get to use the _you wouldn't understand_ line on me, Dean. I might be a teenager, but I'm not stupid, and unless you tell me what's going on, I'm going to turn and walk right up to that nice police officer."  
  
Dean looks torn, so Troy huffs and makes a move back towards the group, but Dean grabs his arm. "Ok, ok, you win," he says, lifting up his hands, a defeated grimace on his face. "I'll tell you. But then don't say I didn't warn you."  
He nods towards the cafeteria. "Come on, you need to be sitting down, for this, and I, for one, need to have my stomach full."

 

  
_A blond girl is parking her car in the college parking. She turns off the gas and starts gathering some things in the car. All of a sudden, a weird roaring sound coming from outside makes her turn abruptly.  
  
The girl blinks, confused, and gets out of the car. "Hello?" She calls, but no one answers.  
  
She starts retreating towards the car and tries to unlock the doors, which do not open. The girl looks for the keys, then sees them on the seat, inside the car.  
  
"Dammit," she mutters, as she tries the handle once more.  
  
The growl gets closer and the girl freezes, her expression melting into panic.  
A shadow moves behind her, and she turns, but the movement is too fast for her to catch.  
  
The wind blows, and a few clouds move, revealing an almost full moon which enlightens the parking lot.  
  
The girl's eyes are open wide, blown with fear. "Help! Somebody, help me!" She shouts, "Somebody, help!"  
  
She continues to pound on the doors and windows of her car, trying to get it to open, but just as something clicks the shadow jumps on her and she screams once more before the car's windows get splattered with blood._  
  
Sam bursts awake.  
  
He's panting, heavily, and he's covered in sweat.  
  
As he sits up in his bed, he pushes his wet bangs back, blinking and trying to focus on what's around him to fight the upcoming nausea.  
  
His room is as it was when he went to bed, everything's fine and there's no need to panic.  
  
First thing he does, as soon as he has his body somehow under control again, is check his phone.  
  
No calls, obviously.  
  
Sam stands up and gets to his window, opening the curtains and staring at the almost full, pale moon which seems to be mocking him.  
  
He sighs and looks at the bed once, before shrugging.  
  
No way he's going to be able to go back to sleep now, so he's probably better off putting something on and getting to the closest bar.  
  
A couple of shots will wash away his nerves, and the awful sensation pressing on his chest.  
  
Hopefully.

 

  
"So, let me see if I got this right. Monsters are real."  
  
Dean nods. "Yeah, so are werewolves, vampires, ghosts and basically every Halloween mask you have ever seen."  
  
Troy swallows hard. "And you fight them with-salt?"  
  
Dean snorts. "Among other things, like silver and knives and a great selection of guns." Dean scratches the back of his head, trying to find the right words.  
"There might be something different from a-rational explanation, behind what happened here."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"I don't know yet. It's not something I can guess."  
  
Troy crosses his arms on his chest. "You really expect me to believe any of this?" He asks, narrowing his eyes.  
  
"Why would I lie?" Dean retaliates.  
  
Troy shrugs. "Because you're insane?"  
  
Dean sighs. "Listen, Troy, I'm just trying to help, here. Ok? Maybe there's no case at all, maybe it's really the work of some mad serial killer...but life with my dad has taught me not to dismiss any case until I'm sure. And that's exactly what I'm going to do here. I'll just research, and if it turns out that no Supernatural son of a bitch is involved, I'll step aside and let the police do their work."  
  
Troy scowls at him. "Dean, we entered a sealed crime scene. We could have damaged the evidence, or something."  
  
Dean arches an eyebrow. "Kid, I've been doing this job for over 15 years. I know how it works, believe me."  
  
Troy would like to keep thinking Dean's out of his mind, but that feeling, that sensation of safety he felt when he first saw Dean on the road still stands, so he decides to at least give him a chance to prove what he's saying.  
  
It's not like he _truly_ believes him, obviously, but Gabriella might be in danger, and even if it's a slim chance Troy can't risk it, so he'll stick around.  
  
Besides, he can't let a weird and potentially out of his mind man like Dean wander around campus on his own.  
  
He has to keep an eye on him.  
  
Making his decision, he lifts his chin and looks back at Dean. "So, this is what you do? You, your father, your brother-you hunt down these kinds of things?"  
  
Dean nods again. "Pretty much."  
  
Troy gapes at him. "I can't-I don't think I'd be able to believe it even if I saw it with my own eyes, this is way too absurd." He stares at the ground for a few moments, then he looks at Dean once more. "If somehow you're right, can you beat it? Can you kill this thing before someone else is hurt?"  
  
It doesn't take a genius to get who Troy is worried about.  
  
"I'll do whatever it takes, Troy. I promise you that." Dean states, putting a hand on Troy's shoulder.  
  
Troy nods, and he's about to add something else when he's hit by a sudden thought. "So, nobody knows that you do this?"  
  
Dean shakes his head. "It's safer if you don't have bonds that can be used against you."  
  
Troy looks pensive. "You got nothing to go home to but your father and brother, then. Must be lonely, no wonder you can't stand him being far from you. He's basically all you have, I guess you've grown close together."  
  
Dean throws a small grin at Troy. "Come on, it's not so bad. I get to be a hero, even if just a phantom one. I save people. Besides, what else can I do? It runs in the family...and I'm damn good at it."  
  
Troy could let it slide, could pretend he believes Dean's words, but that's not him, so he just smiles, knowingly. "How do you do it?" He asks.  
  
Dean's grin falters. "Well, I figure that our family's done for, I mean, we're screwed up and there's no way out, but maybe we can help some other families, keep them safe, you know. The thought makes it all a little more bearable."  
Realizing how much he has been sharing with Troy, Dean feels suddenly uncomfortable and vulnerable. His back stiffens, as he clears his throat. "Ok, so, if you're gonna scream, go right ahead. If you're not, just go looking for Gabriella and try to convince her to go back with you. I've got work to do."  
  
He only gets to walk a couple of steps before Troy grabs his shoulder. "No way I'm letting you go like this, Dean. If you want me to believe you, you better show me. I'm staying with you."  
  
Dean gapes at Troy. "Wha-no. Troy, that's out of the question. This stuff can get dangerous, and there's no way I'm taking a kid along."  
  
Troy snorts. "You're probably crazy, but if you're right Gabriella is in danger. I've been a crappy boyfriend and an even crappier friend, this is my chance at actually doing something for her." He bites his lower lip, nervously. "I won't say I'm not scared, because I am, like whoa, but I'm not going to run and hide, either. I'm coming with you and that's final. Or I go to the cops. Your choice."  
As soon as he's done talking, he turns and leaves, straight towards the Impala.  
"Are we going or what?" he shouts from over his shoulder, directed at Dean, who's still standing in the middle of the road.  
"Damn kids" Dean mutters "adolescence is a fucking curse."

 

  
The bar is smoky and full of underage guys with fake IDs, but it's perfect for what Sam has in mind: get wasted and leave all his worries outside the sticky door.  
  
He enters, throws a look around (old habits die hard) and then gets a beer.  
  
Once he has found an empty table, he sits down, staring at his beer as if it holds some important answer; then again, maybe it does. An answer to why he has done everything he could in order to leave and be normal, and now he's obsessed with missing his brother, talking to him, hearing his voice.  
  
_You don't know what you've got till it's gone_ , they say, and that's exactly what Sam is feeling right now.  
  
But how could he have stayed?  
  
How could he have kept on sharing his personal space with his brother, after he realized-  
  
Suddenly, his thoughts come to a complete halt as his eyes focus on the other side of the room.  
  
He gapes and stands up, so abruptly that his beer falls, but he doesn't care.  
  
He doesn't even see it, probably.  
  
Sam slowly crosses the bar, his steps growing faster by the second, until he reaches the pool table. He approaches one of the players, who has his back to him, and puts a hand on his shoulder, grabbing it tightly. The guy freezes just before he takes his shot, and turns to face him.  
  
_Short, spiky blond hair.  
Green eyes.  
Freckles._  
  
Sam swallows hard, as recognition dawns on the other guy's face. “Dean?"  
  
The guy smirks. "Heya, Sammy."

 

  
Dean is leaning on a pool table with a pool cue in his hand, and he looks pretty drunk.  
  
He obviously isn't.  
  
"Just one more, ok?" He's asking, "lemme try to win it back."  
  
The man shrugs. "Your cash, your choice. If your pockets are too heavy, who am I to refuse?" He answers, smirking at his friends.  
  
Dean hides his own smirk.  
  
He hasn't had to do this for a while now, but looks like he's still as good as a hustler as he was in the beginning, when he and Sam-  
  
He shakes his head.  
  
No thinking of Sam, not now that he needs to be concentrating on the task at hand.  
Dean slams a wad of cash on the table and throws a look at the small table in the back, where Troy is sitting, looking around with his eyes as wide as saucers.  
  
_Kids._  
  
His opponent sets the balls up, and Dean leans over to shoot. After the first two winning moves, the man looks shocked, but just as Dean gets ready to shoot again, someone grabs his shoulder. He turns, not too fast (he has to remember he's playing _drunk_ , after all) but any pretense jumps out the window when he sees his brother, his little brother-not so little anymore, not at _all_ , staring back at him with a surprised, confused expression.  
  
"Dean?"  
  
His voice sounds tired and pained, and Dean's jaw clenches. He hides it behind one of his trademark smirks. "Heya, Sammy." Then, he turns towards his opponent, and offers him a lopsided smile. "Sorry, looks like my brother's here to take me home," he says, "keep the money."  
  
The man blinks, but shrugs again. "Suit yourself."  
  
Sam's hold on his shoulder tightens, and Dean follows him away from the pool table. There's a not so pleased look on Sam's face when he stops and faces him.  
"What are you doing here?" He hisses.  
  
Dean smirks once more. "Would you believe me if I told you that I came to visit some friends?"  
  
Sam rolls his eyes. "Yeah, sure. Where are they?" He retorts, and Dean doesn't answer. Sam huffs. "Seriously, Dean. What are you doing here? I thought you were going to do your best to stay as far from California as you could manage..."  
  
"Well, you thought wrong," Dean snaps. "Again," he adds after a second.  
  
Sam narrows his eyes. "Listen, you jerk. I'm not the one who hasn't-"  
  
"...Dean?"  
  
Both brothers turn towards the voice, and they're faced with a blinking Troy.  
"What happened?" Troy asks. "Who's this? And why did you leave the pool table? I thought we needed-"  
  
Sam is glaring daggers at him, so Dean sighs. "Sam, this is Troy."  
  
"A little too young, don't you think, Dean?" Sam sneers, and Troy blushes furiously.  
  
"Sam, quit it. Troy, this is my brother, Sam."  
  
Troy looks surprised. "This is the _little_ brother?" He gapes, his neck bent to look Sam in the eyes.  
  
Sam coughs, uncomfortably. "You've, er. Did Dean talk to you about me?"  
  
Troy beams. "Of course he did. You're all he talks about."  
  
Sam blinks, confused. "What?"  
  
Dean's expression is panicked, and he signs at Troy to quit it, but the kid is blatantly ignoring him.  
  
"Apparently he was a total mess without you, man. He drove all this way just to see you, you know."  
  
Sam turns towards Dean, stunned, and Dean chuckles nervously. "No big deal, in fact, I was in the area," he states, quickly, but it sounds like a lie even to his own ears.  
  
The three of them look around quietly, until Troy whistles lowly. "Okay, awkward. I think I'll turn in, guys. I'm beat and you probably have lots of things to discuss, so, see you both in the morning."  
  
He bounces away, muttering who knows what weird song, and leaves Sam and Dean alone.  
  
"So," Sam crosses his arms on his chest, "you have exactly 30 seconds to explain to me why you're here and what's that kid doing with you, and you better be fucking honest or I'll break both your legs and make you crawl back to Dad."  
  
Dean wants to laugh, because, come on! Does Sam really think he can beat him up? But then decides against it. He has been waiting for so long to see his brother again, he won't let his stupid pride get in the way.

_TBC..._


	4. ACT 04

 

  
"Ok, so the kid tagged along by chance and now you can't get rid of him because if you do he'll go to the cops?"  
  
Dean nods, looking embarrassed.  
  
Sam snorts.  
  
"Not a word," Dean hisses, and Sam lifts his hands in apology, still smirking.  
  
As Sam picks the lock, he keeps interrogating Dean. "Change of topic. As for the case, do you have any theories at all?"  
  
Dean shrugs. "Nope. I have no idea about what actually happened, to this girl or any of the others. I'm not even sure if there really is a connection, or a case, to begin with."  
  
Sam bites his lower lip. "Fine, we'll just have to check the girl's body and find out, then," he states, opening the window and sliding inside the morgue.  
  
"We better be quick," Dean points out, following him and closing the window after them.  
  
Once the sheet that's covering the corpse is removed, they are faced with a ripped apart torso.  
  
"That's- _disgusting,_ " Dean mutters, as Sam grimaces and puts on plastic gloves to inspect the body. "What the Hell? What bit her?" Dean wonders, as Sam's fingers squelch inside the chest cavity, looking for something, anything-  
  
"Dean?" Dean looks at Sam's furrowed brows. "The-the heart is missing."  
  
Dean's jaw drops open. "What do you mean? Maybe they have autopsied her, and then-"  
  
Sam doesn't even let him finish. "No, Dean. I mean, look at these wounds. Unless you believe that there's an abnormally big and hungry wolf in the woods surrounding Stanford, there's only one explanation for this."  
  
Dean has to nod. "Werewolf."  
  
Sam looks flabbergasted. "The lunar cycle is right, too." He steps back as he takes off the gloves, his mind already racing. "We have to research, investigate, find out how long this has been happening around here, if there is any clue about who could be the werewolf, if..."  
  
Dean grabs his wrist, effectively stopping him. "What?" Sam snaps, and Dean sighs. He knows how much his brother hates when his thinking process is interrupted, and normally he would have mocked him about it, but there are more pressuring matters at hand.  
  
"Sam, we can't. There is not enough time. This is the week leading up to the full moon, and if we lose the chance, we'll have to wait one more month before we are able to bring the sucker down, and who knows how many more girls are gonna be dead by then."  
  
Sam deflates instantly. "You're right," he admits.  
  
"Let's get out of here."  
  
They're already out of the room and on their way to the window from where they came in when Sam remembers he didn't cover the body back after checking it out.  
  
Not wanting to attract unnecessary attention to mysterious desecrated corpses, he steps back in the room, and just as he grabs the sheet to cover the girl once more, his gaze falls on her face and his heart skips a bit.  
  
He would recognize her anywhere.  
  
It's the blond girl from his nightmare.  
  
"Sammy? You ok?" Dean inquires, entering the room, "what's taking so long?"  
He notices his brother standing still next to the corpse, but only once he gets closer he sees how badly Sam is shaking. "Fuck, Sam, what's wrong?" He asks, again and again, but Sam doesn't seem to hear him, so he just guides him out, as carefully as he can.  
  
None of them has noticed that they've been talking about the case just as if it was just one more gig, as if they still were SamnDean and nothing had changed.  
  
They didn't have the time to realize how much they have been wanting, craving, needing this.

 

  
_Gabriella is entering the kitchen, whistling to herself._  
She opens the fridge and takes out a can of coke, which she starts drinking from.  
  
"Jess!" She calls. "Jess, are you home?"  
  
When her roommate doesn't answer, Gabriella looks at the clock on the wall and arches an eyebrow. It's past 10 pm. "Weird," she mutters.  
  
Her back is turned away from the door, so she doesn't see the shadow moving fast behind her. The papers stuck on the fridge waver slightly, and Gabriella shivers before walking to the living room: the window is open.  
  
She tries to close it, but it does not budge. She snorts, then applies a little more pressure, finally succeeding, and locks it.  
  
Then, from behind her, a loose floorboard creaks and she freezes.  
  
"...Jess?" She whispers, but the growls that answers is most definitely not human.  
  
Gabriella screams at the top of her lungs.

 

  
Sam's eyes snap open, and he finds himself lying on a bed. Dean is sitting in a chair right next to him, his expression anxious. His gaze zeroes on Sam as soon as he notices he's waking up. Sam probably looks as terrified as he feels, but after a couple of seconds of panting and trying to ground himself he sits up, and Dean relaxes visibly.  
  
"How you feeling, Sammy?" Dean asks.  
  
Sam blinks, and passes a palm on his forehead, finding it sweaty. "Not sure," he answers, still confused. "What happened?"  
  
Dean moves from the chair just to sit on the bed next to him. "I don't know, man, you tell me! I came back in the room and I found you in some sort of trance. I talked to you, but you didn't seem to hear me, then you fell asleep on me as I drove you back to campus, so I brought you to the motel instead."  
  
Sam nods slowly, scattered memories coming back to him. Together with them, the dream he just had, the dream he's now sure wasn't a dream at all. "So, are you going to explain what's going on with you or not?" Dean urges him, but Sam just grabs his arm.  
  
"Not now, Dean, not now. Please. We have to go."  
  
"Where?"  
  
Sam's eyes shift nervously. "You're probably going to think I'm crazy, but-I think Gabriella is in danger. She might be the next victim of the werewolf."  
  
Dean arches an eyebrow. "What makes you think that?"  
  
Sam bites his lower lip, but doesn't answer.  
  
Dean senses that there's a lot more to this than what meets the eye, so he crosses his arms on his chest and glares at Sam. "I'm not going to just follow your lead, Sam. You'll have to give me something more to go by."  
  
Sam's shoulders sag and he exhales, defeated. "Fine. A few days ago I started having nightmares. Not normal nightmares, like running in a hall without ever getting anywhere, or falling down neverending stairs, or facing an important exam naked. I’m talking about-case related nightmares."  
  
Dean blinks, obviously confused, and Sam sighs. "I mean, I dream about people dying, Dean. At first I thought it was just because my brain couldn't stop thinking about the hunt, you know, like it was some sort of cleansing thing, but tonight, when we went to the morgue...I saw that girl die, Dean. I _saw_ it. In vivid detail."  
  
Dean still looks unconvinced. "It's probably just a coincidence, Sam. You just put together the hunt and a hottie you met on campus, and-"  
  
"Dean, shut up!" Sam exclaims, exasperated. "I know what I saw, and I know what happened, and I'm telling you: if we don't protect Gabriella, she's going to be the next corpse." Dean shifts on the bed, stunned into silence. "Please, Dean, trust me. Just this once. I feel it in my guts, I know that I'm right. Please."  
  
In his haste to make Dean believe him, Sam moved closer, and is now almost sitting on him; as Dean sighs, his warm breath crushes against Sam's lips.  
His cock twitches in his pants, and-oh, God, he has to move, fast, before Dean notices-  
  
Dean gapes at him, and Sam knows it's too late.  
  
His face catches fire and he tries to stand up, but Dean grabs him and forces him back down. "Sammy," he says, and it's both an order and a plea.  
  
Sam has never heard Dean's voice sound like this and he’s powerless against it. He looks away, too close now to hide what's probably written clearly on his face.  
  
"Sammy," Dean repeats, softly, before he lifts Sam's chin and stares at his eyes, "why did you leave?"  
  
And Sam hears the question for what it is. He could lie, he could use the _I just wanted to be normal_ excuse again, but Dean is staring straight at his soul, and he can't, not this time. "I was scared," he admits. "I felt-I couldn't. I had to leave."  
  
His eyes shift away once more, and once more Dean forces them back on him.  
"Why?" He asks again.  
  
Sam huffs. "Why do you think, Dean? Do I have to spell it out for you? Are you really that blind?"  
  
Dean smiles, a happy, childish, tender smile that does weird things to Sam's insides. "Not blind, Sammy. Just scared, as much as you apparently."  
  
Sam blinks. "Come again?"  
  
Dean rolls his eyes. "Oh, come on, Sam, who’s the slow one now, huh? I'm the big brother. I'm the one who should know better. And yet..."  
  
Sam licks his lips, suddenly dry, and Dean's gaze follows the movement hungrily.  
Sam swallows, hard. "And yet," he echoes.  
  
They just stare at each other, silence heavy on them, until they both clear their throat at the same time.  
  
Both laugh.  
  
"We suck at this," Sam states, moving instinctively closer to Dean's chest as Dean's arms encircle his shoulders.  
  
Dean feigns pondering about it for a second. "Nah," he concludes, before leaning in and capturing Sam's mouth with his.  
  
As far as first kisses go, it's not the best either of them has ever given or received, but it's still perfect.  
  
Because it's finally them.

 

  
After mouths and lips, tongues and hands get involved; then their whole bodies start humping and pushing and pulling, and Sam feels like he's gonna implode.  
There's still something nagging at his brain, though, and suddenly he knows what it is.  
  
"Dean," Sam mutters, trying to disentangle himself from his brother. "Dean, wait. Gabriella. We have to-"  
  
"It's ok," Dean mumbles from against Sam's neck where he's sucking a bruise. "It’s early morning, so we still have the whole day to figure out how we're doing this."  
  
Sam whimpers, but accepts Dean's answer and lays his head back to give him more space.  
"Attaboy" Dean praises, smirking, before letting his fingers slip under Sam's shirt.

 

  
When Dean gets to the small kitchenette outside his bedroom, he expects a lot of things (he's a hunter) but his brand new sidekick sitting at the table isn't one of them.  
  
Oh, crap. The kid.  
  
He had totally forgotten about him.  
  
He clears his throat, and Troy's head snaps up.  
  
As soon as he sees Dean, he narrows his eyes. "You lied to me," he hisses, and Dean's face goes deadly pale.  
  
"I-er-you see," he blabbers, unable to come up with a decent explanation.  
  
After what happened, _it's not what you think_ would be offensive to both Troy's intelligence and what's between Sam and him.  
  
Troy saves him from death by self combustion standing up and smashing his hands on the table.  
  
"You said you'd tell me if she was in danger, Dean! Why didn't you? You said _whatever it takes_!"  
  
Dean's jaw drops and all of his posture relaxes, as he sits down in front of Troy. "Oh, _that,_ " he murmurs, and Troy glares at him some more.  
  
"Yes, _that_. You made me a promise!"  
  
"And I intend to keep it," Dean answers "Me and Sam will protect her."  
Dean's tone is resolute and firm, and Troy seems to calm down.  
  
He sits again and nods. "Fine. But I want to know what's going on."  
  
Dean sighs and submits to explain what a werewolf is and how to kill it to an 18-years-old who probably still believes in Santa Claus.

 

  
"I said **no** , Troy! And that's final!"  
  
"You're not my father! You can't tell me what to do! You can't order me around!"  
  
"Be thankful that I'm not, kid! I would have already smashed your head against the wall if I was!"  
  
"Ha! I would like to see you try, _grandpa_!"  
  
"Listen, you little piece of-"  
  
"...De?"  
  
Sam's sleepy voice makes both Troy and Dean stop bickering instantly, as they turn to look at him.  
  
Sam is standing just outside of Dean's room, rubbing at his eyes and yawning.  
His unruly mop of hair is sticking up in all directions, and he's wearing Dean's t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.  
  
All in all, he looks adorable.  
  
"Morning, bro." Dean greets him, relieved to see him up and around.  
  
"I thought you went to fetch breakfast, what-" Then Sam opens an eye and sees Troy, freezing on the spot. His cheeks go purple and he starts blabbering, exactly as Dean did.  
  
"It's ok, Sammy, don't worry. I’ve already told Troy that I brought you here after you fainted and that I was too tired to drive you back once you felt better," he explains hurriedly, ignoring Sam's arched eyebrow. They have bigger fish to fry. "I got distracted by this brainless kid who has decided he wants to hunt werewolves in the woods."  
  
"I don't _want_ to" Troy retorts, rolling his eyes, "I _have_ to, which is different. If Gabriella is really in danger, it's my job to protect her, not yours."  
  
Sam lowers his head to look at Troy, who's fuming and shaking with anger.  
Sam stares at his lithe frame, at his long hair and blue eyes and at his clothes, not elegant but definitely sharp.  
  
Dean follows Sam's gaze and snickers.  
  
Troy blushes furiously. "You don't-you-ugh!" He concludes, waving his arms in the air with a frustrated huff and stomping into his room, slamming the door behind him.  
  
As soon as they're alone, Sam turns towards Dean, an anxious expression on his face. "Fuck, Dean, I completely forgot-"  
  
"Yeah, me too," Dean echoes.  
  
"Did he-"  
  
"No, apparently he got so mad at us after he heard about Gabriella that he didn't keep listening."  
  
Sam exhales, relieved. "Oh. Oh, ok. Thank God," he mutters, resting his head on Dean's shoulder.  
  
Dean's eyes shift from left to right, then he thinks _what the Hell_ and leaves a small, quick kiss on his brother's temple.  
  
Sam chuckles. "Not a kid anymore, Dean," he murmurs, and Dean grins as he grabs Sam's ass.  
  
"I think we've established that, haven't we?" He answers, and Sam gets close enough to rub his morning wood against Dean's thigh.  
  
"Maybe we should give it another try? You know, just in case," Sam whispers hotly in Dean's ear, nipping at his earlobe, and Dean shivers.  
  
"Sammy..."  
  
" _I've seen that,_ " Troy growls from a sliver he's open of his door before he closes it again, leaving Dean and Sam frozen in place.

 

_TBC..._


	5. ACT 05

 

  
As soon as the sun starts setting, Sam and Dean take off towards the woods, ready for a stakeout.  
  
Throughout the day, they haven't been able to escape Troy's deadly glare or the hints he has been throwing every here and there about the nature of their relationship, which unsettles Sam (and the little shit knows) and gets Dean mad.  
  
He has tried to convince them to bring along some more, using both threats and pleas, but to no avail.  
  
Eventually, they reached an agreement: Troy will be checking on Gabriella's apartment, while Dean and Sam will take care of the woods and the rest of the zone.  
  
They forced him to promise he'd call if he noticed anything out of the ordinary, and it was reassuring enough, even if it meant they had to promise the same to him.  
  
"If I ever get this annoying, Dean, _smite me,_ " Sam mutters as they settle behind the bushes.  
  
Dean cocks his gun and points it at Sam.  
  
At Sam's widened eyes, Dean just shrugs. "Hey, you asked. You know I can't deny you anything."  
  
Sam is about to come up with some witty remark, before Dean’s words get to him.  
He stares at Dean, biting his lower lip. "Dean, do you-I mean-"  
  
Dean uncocks the gun and puts it away, then rolls his eyes. "God, Sammy, I didn't mean it like that and you should know it! Do you honestly think I'd fuck you if I didn't want to just because I'm unable to say no to you?" Sam lowers his head. "Well, thank you very much, bro! You have a very high opinion of me," he snarls, and Sam leans in and grabs his sleeve when he moves to stand up.  
  
"Wait, Dean. I'm sorry. Of course I don't think you would," Sam says, trying to soothe him. "It's just that...I've been wanting you, _us_ , for so long that I have almost forgotten the reasons why we should be together and I can remember only the ones I gave myself to force me to stop wanting you. I guess I simply need a little time to accept that I can have this, you know."  
  
Dean relaxes and nudges Sam's shoulder. "Always the emo, dorky kid," he mutters, no real heat behind the words. " _My_ emo, dorky kid, though." He adds then, affectionately, and Sam beams at him.

 

  
Hours pass by, and everything's calm.  
  
Too calm.  
  
No trace of the werewolf, or anything else for that matter.  
  
"You know, Dean, maybe we overlooked something?" Sam points out, as he stretches his back and does his best not to jump on Dean once he feels the heat of his gaze where the shirt rolls up.  
  
"Uh-uh," Dean answers, not listening at all.  
  
Sam huffs and lays his arms back down.  
  
Dean whines and Sam has to hide a smirk.  
  
"Let's check in with Troy and see if there's anything he can tell us," Sam suggests, and dials the teen's cellphone.  
  
Sam can feel his stomach clench when the well known female voice says _The number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please try again later_. He turns towards Dean, panic blatant on his face. "Dean, something's wrong. Troy's phone is switched off."  
  
Dean's whole posture stiffens and he's up in a second.  
  
As they run through the campus, they try to figure out what are they going to do; only sure thing is that they can't possibly storm in Gabriella's apartment unannounced, this late at night, to ask her if she has been attacked by an animal killing machine or if her estranged boyfriend has maybe been there to visit her.  
  
"What has that idiotic kid done?!" Dean growls, cold sweat drenching the back of his shirt.  
  
If something happens to Troy, Dean will never forgive himself.  
  
Once they get to Gabriella's dorm, and they see Troy's phone in pieces on the stairs, they forget about everything else and just climb the stairs as fast as they can.

 

  
As they enter from the uprooted door, they see the werewolf.  
  
Facing it is Troy, his shirt tore to shreds and stained with blood; his eyes are fierce, though, and his jaw is clenched.  
  
Behind him there's Gabriella, unconscious on the floor.  
  
On her temple, a purple bruise is already forming, and there are stripes of tears and trickled mascara down her cheeks.  
  
Sam fears he's going to be sick, but Dean is right there, next to him, the warmth of his arm against Sam's, a comfort too huge for words.  
  
Sam swallows, then takes a step and a floorboard creaks.  
  
The creature's gaze snaps up and focuses on Sam and Dean; its growling gets darker as it moves away from Troy and towards them.  
  
Troy's shoulder relax a fraction when he realizes they've arrived, and on his face, for an instant, his real age shines through, before he narrows his eyes and goes back to the fiery warrior he has been up until then.  
  
"Dammit, Dean, these things _are_ real!" He shouts, and Dean arches an eyebrow at him in his best _well, duh_ expression.  
  
The werewolf steps closer to them, slowly, as if it's studying them, so Sam studies it back, and-something's unsettling.  
  
Something in its eyes looks familiar, and-  
  
Sam is too shocked by the discovery to notice the creature taking a swing at him, so he's sent flying across the room.  
  
Dean hits it back, and the werewolf falls in a heap of long limbs, not before throwing Dean's gun out the window.  
  
"Sammy, are you ok?!" Dean asks, and Sam sits up, shaking his head.  
  
"Yeah, fine. Listen, Dean, that's Jessica, Gabriella's roommate."

 

  
Dean's eyes widen. "What?!"  
  
Sam smiles sadly and nods. "Everything adds up. The attacks have started around when they've arrived for the special program, and the door has been broken by Troy when he entered, meaning the werewolf was already inside. We're on the 5th floor, Dean."  
  
Sam's eyes fill with despair and he can't believe it, but the werewolf is getting up, and he knows that's his chance.  
  
Sam's hand shakes on his gun, and he can't even cock it properly. "Come on, Sam, you have to do it!" Dean shouts "Shoot it!"  
  
Sam looks into the creature's eyes, so similar to Jessica's and still so different, and he just-he can't.  
  
The werewolf launches itself at Dean and knocks him out, before it starts fighting with Sam on the floor, sending his gun under the couch.  
  
Its nails dig painfully into Sam's biceps, and Sam cries out, clenching his jaw, as the creature swings at him again and again.  
  
Sam protects himself but he can't hurt Jessica, not on purpose, so he just lets the werewolf leap at him, its fangs bared.  
  
Dean groans, as he tries to stand back up, but when he crawls closer Sam shouts at him to stand back and take care of Troy and Gabriella.  
  
Dean helps Troy up, on wobbly legs, and they both stare in anguish at Sam's struggle to survive.  
  
The gun is near, Dean could grab it and shoot, but Sam and the werewolf are too close, it's too dangerous; Dean wouldn't attempt it in his better conditions, and now he's swaying and his head is pounding.  
  
The werewolf is ready for the final blow, but then there's a flicker of recognition in its eyes, and it hesitates.  
  
That's all Dean needs.  
  
He falls on his knees, grabs the gun and fires several shots, as fast as he can, in the werewolf's back.  
  
The creature growls in pain and falls down, chocking on its own blood.  
  
Slowly, it reverts back to its human form, and Jessica's huge, blue eyes stare back at Sam's battered face. "S-Sam?" She says, hoarsely, her brows furrowed in confusion. There's caked blood in her long blond hair, and her skin is unnaturally pale. Sam gets closer and pulls her head in his lap. "What-what happened? Where am I?" Jessica asks, her face a mask of pain and fear.  
  
"It's ok," Sam whispers, caressing her forehead and trying to soothe her while he keeps his tears at bay.  
  
Jessica stares at Sam's face, then smiles at him, tenderly, softly. “See you in another life, Sam," she murmurs, before closing her eyes.  
  
Sam lowers his head and lets the tears run free.

 

  
Gabriella is sitting on the stairs, just outside her dorm.  
  
Troy is standing on her side, holding her hands, and they both look like death warmed over.  
  
Sam and Dean exit the building, after they've checked everything once more.  
  
"So, is it over?" Troy asks, his voice slightly trembling.  
  
Dean nods, as Sam looks away.  
  
Troy sighs and gets closer to Gabriella, who's still shaking. "What happened in there?" She asks, sounding small and broken.  
  
The other three exchange a look, before Troy sits next to her and holds her shoulders.  
  
"Just a burglar, babe," he explains, "he came in through the window and attacked you."  
  
"Luckily Troy was on his way to see you," Dean continues, "he heard the commotion and came in at the right moment."  
  
Gabriella lifts her teary eyes on Dean. "Right moment? _Right_ moment?! Jessica is dead, you know," she snaps at him and Dean lowers his eyes.  
  
Sam kneels in front of her. "Gabs, I know you're shocked and sad, and believe me, I am too. But there was nothing, at all, Troy or any of us could have done to save Jess. God knows I would have given anything to be able to, but-I'm still glad you're ok."  
  
Gabriella opens her mouth, probably to say that _no, she's not okay and she never will be okay again_ , but then she sees Sam anguished expression and the guilty flicker in her boyfriend's eyes, so she just closes it again and looks away. "What now?" She whispers.  
  
Sam shrugs. "Now we try to move on. It won't be easy, and it will take time, but I don't think Jessica would have wanted us to live in regret, don't you agree?"  
  
Tears pool on the corners of Gabriella's eyes, but she nods, nonetheless.  
"She was too strong and full of hope to live in regret," she says, and a small smile appears on her face. "If there's a heaven, or some kind of an afterlife, she's probably absurdly mad at me for wibbling like a wimp," she adds after a moment, her tone warm and affectionate. "God, I'm gonna miss her so much," she murmurs, hiding her face against Troy's shoulder.  
  
Troy caresses her hair, softly, whispering tender nonsense in her ear.  
Sam is still kneeling in front of her, patting her knee and suddenly Dean feels out of place and helplessly alone.  
  
"Well, I shall hit the road," he states abruptly, stepping back, and Sam's head snaps up.  
  
"What?"  
  
_Please, Sam, don't make this harder than it already is,_ he thinks. He has come to Stanford to verify if Sam was happy, if he had friends, if he had moved on; apparently, he has.  
  
He's not the baby brother who used to follow him everywhere, worshipping him; he's a man now, he has to make his own choices and follow his own path.  
He deserves more than this, more than him.  
  
Dean waves his hand dismissively.  
  
"Yeah, you know. Places to go, people to see...I'm wasting daylight, here."  
  
Sam slowly stands up, narrowing his eyes. "You're not serious" He hisses.  
Dean motions with his head towards his car and walks towards it, Sam following.

 

  
As soon as they're far enough from the teenaged couple, Dean stops and turns.  
"Listen, Sammy, I-"  
  
"No, _you_ listen, Dean. You can't really expect to waltz back into my life, sweep me off my feet and then waltz back out as if nothing happened. I won't let you." Dean gapes at him, trying to find the words, but Sam just shakes his head. "I gave myself to you, Dean. Over and over. And I'm not only talking about the physical connection, here. I'm talking about everything else."  
Sam sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I mean-you said that since you were the older brother, you were the one who should have known better, right?"  
Dean nods. " _Wrong_. In our life, in our fucked up world, I'm the freak, I'm the one who's wrong. I've been so indescribably stupid for thinking I could simply walk away from the hunt, from dad-from _you_." He stares straight at Dean, and Dean can see so much passion burning fiercely in his hazel eyes that his breath hitches. "I should have known" Sam concludes in a whisper. "There is no walking away from you, Dean. I've _breathed_ you all my life, your blood runs through my veins, for God's sake, I don't think it can get more visceral than that." Sam steps closer. "I'm coming with you" he says.  
  
Dean bites his lip, hard, to stop the pansy words that he was about to spill, words like _I fucking love you, bro_ and _you're everything I have, don't leave me, ever again_.  
  
It's not like Sam doesn't know already, anyway.  
  
He settles on nodding, curtly, before throwing a glance to Troy and Gabriella, who stood up and are slowly walking their way.  
  
"You're going," Gabriella states, and it's not really a question.  
  
"Yeah," Sam answers nonetheless, as a sad smile appears on Gabriella's face.  
  
"I figured," she murmurs. "This was never your scene to begin with. It was just an interlude you needed to make your choice."  
  
Sam stares at her surprised, and Troy chuckles. "Get used to it, man. She always knows it all."  
  
Sam and Gabriella hug, and so do Dean and Troy.  
  
"I won't see you again, will I?" Troy inquires, already knowing the answer.  
  
"Trust me, it's better this way," Dean says, "nothing good comes from hanging out with me, I think the last couple of day proved it," he adds, jokingly, but Troy's expression is serious.  
  
"Man, you saved my life. And Gabriella's. There is no way I'm ever going to be able to repay you for that."  
  
Dean grins. "Just treat her right, kid. Take care of her, okay?"  
  
Troy nods, and Dean ruffles his hair. "See you around."  
  
He waves at Gabriella, as he opens the driver's door and jumps in the car, and Sam is right after him.  
  
The engine roars back to life, and the brothers drive away, without looking back.  
  
Sam's hands shift restlessly in his lap, until Dean leans in and intertwines their fingers giving him a light squeeze. "We're in this together, Sammy. It's gonna be alright."  
  
Sam looks at his brother's profile and smiles.  


_TBC..._


	6. ACT 06

 

  
Troy and Gabriella stare at the Impala until it's nothing more than a small black dot on the horizon, then turn to each other.  
  
"So, you probably came here to take me home, huh?" Gabriella asks.  
  
"Actually? No. I just took a wrong turn on the way to prom," Troy answers.  
  
Gabriella giggles. "You're completely crazy, Wildcat."  
  
Troy shrugs, grinning at her. "You already knew that when you agreed to date me."  
  
Gabriella rolls her eyes, then she freezes, realization dawning on her.  
"Prom is tonight, isn't it?! And you're a thousand miles away! You're going to miss it!"  
  
Troy simply steps closer and takes Gabriella's hand in his. "My prom is wherever you are," he says.  
  
Gabriella blushes and looks away. "Troy, I-we tried. No one can say we didn't try. And still...we can't make it, with a long distance relationship. _I_ can't make it." She sighs, lowering her head. "It will break my heart every time you or I have to leave."  
  
Troy shakes his head. "Gabriella, when you came to East High I was just a spoiled brat ready to take the easy way out. I had no dreams, no aspirations of my own, just those I borrowed from my dad. Life was simple, and I liked it that way." He puts a finger under Gabriella's chin and lifts it up to meet her eyes.  
"You made me want to be a better man. You gave me friends that are going to last me a lifetime, people I just used to pass in the hallway without stopping to think who they were. You changed me, Gabs, and now I can't revert back to what I was before I met you. Even if I could, I wouldn't want to." He softly caresses her cheek. "You might be ready to say goodbye to me, but I'm not, nor I ever will, be ready to say goodbye to you."  
  
Gabriella blinks, confused. "I don't-"  
  
Troy smiles. "I have chosen both, basketball _and_ theatre, but most of all I have chosen to follow the person who inspires my heart."  
  
He takes an envelope out of his backpack and gives it to Gabriella; as she reads the letter inside, her eyes go wide.  
  
Troy beams. "That's why I picked Berkeley, a school that offers me all of it and it's exactly 32.7 miles from you."  
  
Gabriella lets the letter fall as she covers her mouth with a hand, stunned into silence.  
  
Troy chuckles. "Wow, Gabriella Montez speechless. That's a first."

 

  
For a few miles, they just keep going, happy with each other's presence and with no need for words.  
  
Eventually, Sam sighs.  
  
"What's wrong?" Dean asks, throwing him a glance.  
  
Sam shrugs.  
  
"Oh, nothing. Just-Dad's gonna flip, you know." His tone is light, but laced with bitterness.  
  
Dean smiles and squeezes Sam's thigh. "Don't say that. He loves you, Sammy. He's not very good at showing it, I admit that, but he still does." Sam snorts, and Dean's hand slaps the back of his neck. "I mean it. He has been a wreck since you left."  
  
Sam's eyes lighten up. “Really?" He asks, unable to hide the happiness Dean's words provoked.  
  
Dean smile turns into a full-on grin. "Really."  
  
They're back to silence for a while, until Sam decides to man up and just _ask_.  
  
"Dean?"  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"You wanted to see me, right? You missed me, right?"  
  
Dean gapes at him for a moment, before turning his eyes back on the street.  
"Sam, did you miss the part where I drove to Stanford, devoured your mouth and fucked you senseless for hours?" He retorts, jokingly, but Sam is not laughing.  
  
"Then why didn't you call me back? Not even _once_ , Dean. In three weeks."  
  
Dean blinks. "What are you talking about? Of course I didn't call you, Sammy, I have my pride, you know? And that's a two way street, you could have called, too."  
  
This time is Sam's turn to gape. "I did! I left you countless messages on your voicemail, because I knew you'd be too chickenshit to be the first to admit you were missing me. That's why I said _call me **back**_."  
  
Dean rolls his eyes at that. "Oh, come on, Sam, you'll have to do better than that. My phone is always on, always, and you know it better than anyone else. Do you really think I could have let you go to voicemail for three weeks?!"  
  
Sam shrugs. "I would have never thought you could, but you _did_."  
  
Dean turns the wheel abruptly, getting the car off the road, then stops it and turns the engine off before turning towards Sam, his eyes narrowed. "Why are you lying to me, Sam?" He asks, and he sounds mad, but Sam is mad too, because _dammit, Dean, how can you deny the obvious?!_  
  
They stare at each other, their eyes throwing daggers, until Dean huffs and takes his phone out of his pocket and shows it to Sam. "Here, see? My phone works perfectly fine, and it's _on_."  
  
Sam studies it, then fishes his own phone out and presses Dean's speed dial key.  
After a short silence, Dean's voice comes on the line and Sam's expression turns smug.  
  
_This is Ricky Zambora. Leave a message._  
  
"What the Hell-"  
  
Dean stares at the phone in his hands, confused, then he dials Sam's number.  
  
When Sam's phone rings, though, there's an unknown number on the screen.  
"Uh," is Dean's eloquent answer.  
  
"Looks like this is not my phone, then," he adds, and Sam nods, looking away.  
"Sammy. Hey, Sammy, look at me."  
  
Dean's hand grabs his shoulder, and gently turns Sam's torso towards him once more. "I'd never do that to you. I swear. We're family, and no matter how bad it gets, that doesn't change. I'm sorry you thought I had left you alone."  
  
Sam offers him a small smile. "It's ok. You didn't. That's all that matters to me."  
  
They stare at each other again, just honesty and truth in their eyes this time, before Dean clears his throat and turns the engine back on. "We better go if we want to have dinner with dad," he states, gruffly.  
  
"Sure, jerk," Sam retaliates, grinning.  
  
"Bitch," Dean mutters, but he's grinning, too.

 

  
_Three weeks earlier_  
  
John's truck is the first to drive in the motel's parking.  
  
Dean is driving the Impala, and Jon knows how his son gets when he gets to, so he doesn't expect him to be back any time soon.  
  
He smiles fondly at the thought of his older son picking up some small town girl and cruising her around proudly in what he already started to call _his baby_.  
  
Whistling, he gets to the motel's door and opens it.  
  
"Sammy?" He calls, but then he hears the water running.  
  
He's in the shower, then.  
  
John walks up to the room the boys share and enter; as he expected, the room is perfectly tidy and neat, Sam's clothes all folded and Dean's too, on their respective beds.  
  
On Sam's bed there is an open envelope and a few scattered pages.  
  
John throws a glance at the bathroom's door, but right then Sam moans, and John chuckles.  
  
Kid's gonna be inside a while longer, he guesses.  
  
As soon as his eyes are skimming the pages, his smile fades.  
  
_Dear Sam,  
  
Congratulations! It is with great pleasure that I offer you admission to the Stanford University Class of 2001.  
  
Among the over 20,000 applications we read, your distinguished record of academic excellence and personal achievement stood out, and we are therefore glad to offer you a full scholarship.  
  
Furthermore, you and 29 students are cordially invited to Stanford's Honor Program for early orientation.  
  
It's a special three weeks program that will introduce you to the intellectual vibrancy and dynamic campus life that define Stanford; those selected will be given the opportunity of taking part to academic enhancement programs to be conducted by Stanford faculty.  
  
I hope you will use this time to learn more about us; should you decide to matriculate at Stanford - and we sincerely hope you do - we will send all the enrollment information you may need._  
  
John sits on Sam's bed, his jaw dropped.  
  
His youngest son...at Stanford.  
  
With a full scholarship, invited to a special program only 30 students in the whole country are going to be attending to.  
  
He feels pride blooming in his chest, even though he knows what's out there, how dangerous the world is and how Sam would be better off with them, protected.  
However, he also knows Sam's well worth the honor and heck, the kid has worked hard enough, he deserves it and John will support any decision he'll choose to make.  
  
He stands up, folds the page and puts it back exactly where it was, not wanting Sam to know he's been snooping.  
  
Just as he's about to leave the room, a strangled groan comes from the bathroom, followed by a hoarse moan.  
  
_"Fuck...oh, fuck...Dean..."_  
  
John freezes, all of his body going still and he's sure his heart has stopped in his chest.  
  
He can try to tell to himself that he misunderstood, that it's not what he thinks, that Sammy is not...  
  
_"Dean!"_  
  
John steps back, hitting the desk, and a book falls on the floor.  
  
He covers his mouth with a hand, the burger he ate for lunch revolving in his stomach, but wills himself to stay calm.  
  
For a while there's no other sound but Sam's labored breathing and the water, but eventually his son (can he still consider Sam as such?) turns the water off.  
_"Fuck, I have to get out of here,"_ he mutters, and John instantly realizes that Dean isn't aware of any of it.  
  
He'll have to keep things this way, at all costs.  
  
And if he has to cheat and lie in order for that to happen, so be it.  
  
Sam _has_ to get away, and it's up to John to make sure that once he does, he'll never come back.

 

  
The cellphone's little red led is blinking, which means that Sam has called.  
_Again_.  
  
"Will that kid ever give up?" John snaps, pounding his fist on the table and making both Dean's phone and the half-empty whisky bottle wobble.  
  
John pinches the bridge of his nose, using all of his willpower to stomp on the nausea that's threatening to grab a hold on him once more.  
  
Looks like he can't stop retching, lately; it can't be good for his health, and in his line of work nothing is more valuable than health.  
  
He breathes deeply and closes his eyes, sighing, as his shoulders sag.  
  
_Someday,_ he thinks.  
  
_Someday you'll understand that this was necessary, and maybe that day I'll be finally able to forgive myself for turning you into **this**_.  


_END_


	7. Art & Thanks

As usual, I'm in debt to all of my friends, and this post it's not enough in any way, but alas, it's the best I can do.

Besides, those of you who have been here with me all the way already know how grateful I am, don't you?  
I want to give a special H&K to the usual suspects: [](http://blueeyedliz.livejournal.com/profile)[blueeyedliz](http://blueeyedliz.livejournal.com/),[](http://free-pirate.livejournal.com/profile)[free_pirate](http://free-pirate.livejournal.com/), [](http://chica-charlie.livejournal.com/profile)[chica_charlie](http://chica-charlie.livejournal.com/) and [lightthesparks](http://lightthesparks.livejournal.com/). I love you so much, girls, I'd be lost without you.

I also wanna thank my new Spanish friends, [](http://kiasca.livejournal.com/profile)[kiasca](http://kiasca.livejournal.com/) and [](http://the-last-shadow.livejournal.com/profile)[the_last_shadow](http://the-last-shadow.livejournal.com/), for both handholding and support and for giving me a weekend to remember (that's also thanks to [genma_san](http://genma-san.livejournal.com/)).

Finally, there would have been no fic and no glory without my artist, the ever so amazing [liliaeth](http://liliaeth.livejournal.com/). I've been a nightmare to work with, but she never complained, and came up with an art that blew me away.  
Under the cut, you'll find all of her graphics, so that you can properly appreciate them. Don't forget to tell her how fabulous she is!

 

**HEADER:**

 

 

**DIVIDERS:**

 

DEAN 

 

 

SAM 

 

TROY 

  

GABRIELLA

 

 

JESSICA

 

CHAD

 

JOHN

 

 

**WALLPAPER:**

 

And last but not least, thanks to all of you for reading this fic and giving it a chance.  
It means so, SO much to me.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Not Coming Down From:** [bed](https://www.google.com/maps?q=Bed)
> 
>  **Clawed Chained Heart:** sick
> 
>  **Under The Spell Of:** Sugababes "Follow me home"


End file.
